knives...and aliens
2004-05-26 ~ 4:38 a.m.

i cut this time because i wanted to cause pain.

and i can't knowingly do that to anyone or anything without incredible guilt...and if i can't justify or balance it in my head...and i never can.

i cause the pain to myself.

i am a shallow cutter. i like to see the blood, but mainly i like the sting. i have, often, been just as happy with whelps. it is just release.

i really might explode. you never do know.

in other news, i gave jazzy a severe summer cut. the advantage is on it's way, but i am losing fast. she has three bad hotspots where she got shaved down all the way and then some panalog. and then a fairly thorough entire shave down...took at least an inch off. looked like a whole 'nother keeshond. but i know she feels terrible. i can look in her sweet puppy eyes and see it.

emer and i did talk tonight, and it was okay. she says she is at the mercy of her parents. with the move. they got her the dog, as i understand it...as a kind of bribery. it is the whole package though. school, nice apartment (maybe new furnishings), the puppy.

she cried and apologized about the moving out part...and i told her that wasn't my real problem. she is looking at moving in mid-july, so she is settled when school starts on the 19th.

she seems extremely manic to me. but maybe she is right...and she is level, the meds are working, and she has lots of energy without sleeping. i can buy that i suppose. she says she is totally happy.

but it was a good talk.

before that talk...

i freaked out. totally. when she came home with the puppy and no coffee. and no plan to get coffee. who in the class did not see that coming??

i went in the garage and called hester and talked to her voicemail. for a while.

i am much better now. she managed to get ahold of "the beautiful boy" after some prompting and he came by about an hour ago and i got some fresh-brewed coffee. i am much better now. on repeat.

and the puppy...? very much a puppy. i only let her on the floor once, emer was smart enough to keep her in her lap. i held her while emer put her comforter in the wash because the puppy had woken up and peed on it. she is very playful, curious...and seems kinda aggresive in a way. the house is not puppy-proof. i have no intention of garnering the back-strain to make it so.

and as frustrating as it might be for several reasons, i did tell emer i was happy that she was happy. and i mean it.

=/=

i remember when i really was cutting. been over a year. i am still doing really well, i think. certainly not carving my arms up with a staple i stole out of the paperwork packet at the mental institution, for sure.

but...strange. because i always feel guilty for cutting. maybe it is because i have it justified so well in my mind. or maybe it was so shallow that it doesn't even count. i don't know...

maybe it is that a few days haven't gone by...maybe we'll see how i feel then.

*note to self* self, do not beat self up over this, even later.

=/=

the animals are acting exactly as i thought, except jazz. she just walked away from the puppy. but i know that is because she feels so bad. please hurry, advantage. jazz has a moderate to severe allergic reaction to lots of things...but the biggest is a flea. not fleas, nope...they do not even have to be plural. one will take her down, if she can't kill it before it bites her. there aren't many...but at least a few.

fuckers. you will all be dead within 12 hours of the postal delivery! ohhh yes.

i am not behind the ball completely...hester let me order it last week and it should be here soon. i just should have already had it.

suffering is just unacceptable. i cannot bear it. i will not.

people and animals and all the things of this earth...

i despise suffering. if we, with conscious thought, were considerate and kind every moment of our lives...

*shut the fuck up. i know how unreal it is. i just want to imagine my pretend world.*

so...yeah...

every moment. if we managed to keep ourselves firmly grounded in the right now. and then remembered to always be kind and always think of as many people as possible...

completely unreal. but that is what i keep finding myself trying to do. and of course i can't. not even close. hell, i can't even tell you where some of my time goes. but that is what i keep trying to do. what i seem to want, when i stop to think about it.

i am not sure if that is my eden or my own private hell.

who says latter?

=/=

i am in need of: one job

i sent off more applications today and yesterday than i did any week i was on unemployment...and i sent out a ton then.

i am looking in everything...pretty much.

i am looking. but i had to adjust my criteria and salary requirements ....which excluded my boston market choice, but we shall see.

still, with my experience...i am way fucking cheap.

maybe i am too cheap??

dammitt....what do i want to do?? if i could pinpoint that ...and believe that i could do it ...i think i would naturally be great.

believe is the key word in that sentence, class.

and my whole life i believed it was writing. never knew what genre or material i might use...but i remember just knowing that would be a writer when i grew up. *i did flirt with photo-journalism, etc...still do. that's the problem.*

and i think i could be a teacher, and i would feel some satisfaction from that perhaps. i don't feel passionate about it. it seems sensible and practical and i shudder.

undoubtedly...i could use a good helping of both. but still.

vicki is my reason for not believing. no, worse. she twisted one of the things i loved and bent it into something i might never be able to unravel.

she made me feel like my words were venom straight from satan's mouth. i remember thinking i was evil. not just an angry, grieving teenager. no, evil spawn...with a silver-tongue...that my words would snare people and lure them in to my poison waters.

yeah. i was angry at her for a long time. wow. now that was some anger.

granted, she did give me the book originally, but she burned my book. bitch deserved more than anger. yet, in another way, she got it.

since then, what i have really written, outside of our drunk creative writing groups, and even then sometimes...is so shallow that you could never squeeze enough drops from it to make it worth it. *of course, who is to say that it wasn't always that way? maybe i always sucked* *again, note the excessive use of "always" ...fuck you, sheet of paper!!*

unless i am not the only one whose words are on the page; lest everything she said be true.

i did not lose my belief. it was twisted and mutilated.

and maybe it should not have affected me so hard...but i can't deny that it did.

it still does. there is a part of me that just can't seem to...

ever get over some shit.

and i don't know why. i would have fixed it a long time ago if i did.

i just didn't rebound after some throws. got wedged between the rim and board...or stuck in a tree...and i have to be jarred down.

except it really is "always" falling. and it hurts.

and you do get tired. and it doesn't seem to end until death...and it is all suffering. the condition that truly plagues humanity.

even intolerance to suffering is dual-edged. one side of the blade is smooth and hair shaving sharp... the side that glides right by and goes so fast you don't even catch a reflection on the blade as it passes... and the other side, serrated...that is the side that always tries to help. because always trying to help...ultimately means knowing that sometimes you can only ease suffering through death or even more suffering. and the serration is what keeps you feeling ...otherwise, you would pass right through.

i am cracking myself up. really.

*two things to note...one, i am being way objective in my head...and i tend to feel as though i look at the world like i am some sort of alien observer*

*third thing...stop reading cs lewis for a while, just put it down*

sucks...my mom has not mailed the book i left at home yet.

i need to go to bed...this entry just keeps going and going...

and i swear i ran out a long time ago...

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